


Like a tattoo, I'll always have you

by Puppet_in_the_Corner



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M, Piercings, Tattoos, both in naughty places, kink meme prompt, questionable decisions, this was basically an excuse to write smut and i apologize for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:24:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puppet_in_the_Corner/pseuds/Puppet_in_the_Corner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raleigh apparently has a very embarrassing tattoo. Or tattoos. Or other questionable decisions he’s made. Chuck’s not entirely sure, but he's damn well going to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a tattoo, I'll always have you

**Author's Note:**

> You’re going to have to bear with me and suspend your disbelief at the fact that Raleigh would be able to hide _any_ of these things (or that we see his bare torso at least twice in the movie, shhhhh). Also, this is a very unashamed excuse to write lots of smut. I apologize.
> 
> IN HINDSIGHT THIS FIC HAS A LOT OF BLUSHING. Well….
> 
> For a kink meme prompt that wanted Raleigh with an embarrassing tattoo (I have since lost track of the prompt, however, WHOOPS) but I sort went a little... _beyond_ that, so it doesn't strictly follow the prompt anymore... I also apologize for any poorly written smut.

 

 

It happens at breakfast one morning, everyone slowly getting settled into the newly reinstated Sydney Shatterdome; mostly, it’s Chuck growling at Tendo while the other man pokes fun at him, leaning his chin on his hands like some 16 year old girl.

 

"What's so fucking funny about my tattoo, Elvis?"

 

"Well, for one thing its got your dog’s face on it." He points out, not incorrectly. Next to him, Max barks as if in confirmation, the traitor.

 

“It’s _Striker’s logo_ , you cunt.” Tendo is not so easily swayed, however, because he just smiles wanly at Chuck again.

 

“Well, it must run in the family, because your dad has a damn map of Australia on his arm.” Before Chuck has time to defend his dad’s own tattoo (and isn’t that an interesting development?) Tendo just leers at him from across the table, before looking over where Raleigh is quietly pushing his food around, resolutely _not_ listening to their conversation.

 

That Raleigh is maybe a little closer than usual right next to him, Chuck says nothing about. There’d been a few fumbled attempts at kissing and groping that didn’t usually get very far because they were continuously being _interrupted_ , but Chuck was nothing if not determined. So nearly dying after detonating a nuke at the bottom of the ocean had made him a little more bold, so what? At least he knew that there was a mutual desire between the two of them.

 

And maybe a mutual affection but Chuck wasn’t going to dwell on that for too long before he started having mushy _feelings_ again wherever Raleigh was concerned.

 

“Don’t stress too hard about it, Chuck, all of us here have some rather…” and here he pauses, giving Raleigh a lewd grin that the other man just rolls his eyes at, “ _embarrassing ink.”_ Raleigh just shakes his head with a sigh, leveling an unamused look back at Tendo, but what he says doesn’t escape Chuck’s notice.

 

Why would he look at Raleigh like that- _hold up._

 

“You have a tattoo?” Chuck blurts out before he can reign in his thoughts, turning towards the man next to him with a confused look on his face. Raleigh looks suddenly abashed, hand going to the back of his neck in a gesture that Chuck has started to recognize as his _gosh shucks_ mode.

 

“Maybe.” He mutters, a slight red tinge staining his cheeks that Chuck is finding way too adorable. _Bingo,_ Chuck thinks.

 

“You don’t _maybe_ have a tattoo, Becket, you either do or you don’t. Where is it?” He demanded, noticing the way Raleigh squirms under his gaze. During their usual farce of a makeout session, Chuck hadn’t really had the opportunity to _explore_ like he’d wanted, nor had either of them really been divested of any articles of clothing aside from Chuck’s sheepskin jacket. It was beginning to grate on him, especially with this new information coming at him from seemingly nowhere.

 

Plus, Chuck was beginning to view Raleigh’s endless number of shapeless sweaters as obstacles to overcome.

 

Raleigh smiles nervously, his eyes darting between Chuck and Tendo, though there’s an alarmed look in his eyes that reminds Chuck of a cornered animal that’s just found an escape route, and isn’t above scratching your eyes out to get to it.

 

“I… Look, I have to go do some stuff-Your dad, uh, the Marshall, had some things he wanted me to do-” Raleigh stumbles away from the table like he’s been shocked, fleeing away from them with a quickened pace in his step, leaving Chuck glowering after him and Tendo smiling like a loon.

 

“What the hell was that all about? So it’s embarrassing, whatever.” Chuck didn’t want to admit that he’d probably have a good laugh at it himself before letting it go, but Raleigh probably figured that he’d never hear the end of it if that was the case. He rounds back on Tendo, who’s innocently examining the rosary beads on his hand.

 

“So what is it?”

 

“Oh, no, no, no, Chuckles, that’s not for me to say. You’ve got to find it yourself.” Tendo says airily, winking at him before making a show of rising from his seat and leaving Chuck’s questioning gaze.

 

Well, fuck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So, do you know what kind of ink Raleigh’s hiding?” Chuck tries to start it off conversationally, not wanting to admit that he’s been curious about it _all day._ Raleigh, the coward, had vanished after breakfast and Chuck hadn’t seen him since, probably because he knows Chuck would not mind lowering himself to tackling him to try and find it, whatever _it_ was.

 

“Ink?” Mako looks honestly confused, and Chuck takes pity on her.

 

“Ink. You know, a tattoo.” He motions to his own on his arm, “He’s got one but he won’t tell me where it is.” Mako’s face goes through an interesting array of emotions then; blooming realization turns to a fiery red tinge that colors her cheeks like a tiny explosion once she figures out what the hell he’s talking about.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She stammers out, somehow managing to prove that she knows exactly what he’s fucking talking about.

 

“Your face is bright red, I think you know _exactly_ what I’m talking about.” Chuck points out, taking her tomato red blush as confirmation enough. Mako shakes her head so hard Chuck thinks it’s going to fly off, a pinched look on her face then.

 

“I-I have some paperwork to do for the Marshall, I have to go, Chuck.” Yet another completely bullshit excuse, but she manages to escape him as well with it.

 

“Mori, you lying liar-” He doesn’t get to finish before she ducks away from him, practically running down the hall at a brisk pace.

 

“So it definitely exists, right? AT LEAST TELL ME WHERE IT IS!” He yells down the hall after her, only getting an emphatic _FIND IT YOURSELF_ yelled back at him in Japanese.

 

 

Well, time to cross that off the list.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t know why he just won’t tell me where it is.” Chuck grouses, pushing around the meat on his plate while Herc watches on, bemused with his brows quirked.

 

“Well, son, sometimes… people aren’t always proud of the marks they’ve put on their bodies. Not everyone is professor Geiszler.” His dad supplies, possibly trying to assuage his growing irritation at the fact that apparently _everyone knows_ what Raleigh’s tattoo is except for the person he occasionally makes out with. And would like to do… other stuff with. It’s not even like his dad has any room to talk, because he has _bad_ tattoos, that look more like gang tattoos than anything anyone with a full set would ever think about getting.

 

“I mean, we’re not… dating-dating yet, I guess,” Chuck doesn’t see the slightly amused and warm smile on Herc’s face when he says this, “but I feel like he should at least tell me, especially when he decides to give me a surprise handjob or something.” He finishes blandly, stabbing a piece of what he hopes is beef with his fork.

 

The warm smile drops into a grimace, and Herc just awkwardly holds his gaze for a moment before sighing loudly and putting a hand on his shoulder, as if unsure of what to say or do. Which, to be honest, is how most of their conversations go. Baby steps.

 

“Well… I guess if you’re both going to end up naked together at some point, _which is something I definitely don’t want to think about,_ then you’ll definitely see it.” _That_ answers part of his question, but it also just brings up a number of others he didn’t originally put any stock into. He sits up straight in his chair, sending a questioning look to his father, who seems to have realized his mistake moments too late.

 

“Wait a minute, _you_ know where it is? What is it? Wait, _why does Raleigh have to be naked?_ And why do you even know that?” He says accusingly, his brows furrowed together.

 

Herc looks mildly uncomfortable at that, and he opens his mouth to say something but Chuck cuts him off for the sake of his own sanity.

 

“If you say _Manila_ I’m never speaking to you ever again.” He says, dead serious, a somewhat desperate look in his eyes. After the last time his dad had _extrapolated_ upon events that happened _In Manila_ Chuck was close to scrubbing his brains out with aluminum wool, certain he never wanted to hear any of that again.

 

Herc wisely doesn’t say anything after that, and just gingerly pats Chuck on the shoulder before leaving back to whatever Marshall duties he’s been shirking off today.

 

At least, Chuck thinks, this gives him a starting point.

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe Chuck is using underhanded tactics, but if anyone were to tell him that to his face that he was doing so, he’d tell them to fuck right off.

 

That being said, using Max as bait to lure Raleigh out in the open was probably a _little_ strange.

 

Chuck’s a smart guy, something that he is both well aware of in his own right and also apparent according to his old academy scores, but even he would admit that deciding the only way he was getting to the bottom of this was actively _capturing_ Raleigh was probably more than a little mental. Maybe _capturing_ isn’t the right word, he thinks quickly, more like _cornering._

 

He’s also probably going to get his ass kicked for this.

 

“Hey there, buddy, what are you doing here on your lonesome? I find it hard to believe you’re wandering the halls on your own.” Comes the suspicious musings of his prey. Raleigh’s bent over, not facing him, scratching behind Max’s ears while Chuck attempts to slink up behind him; Chuck, for one, can’t actually believe Raleigh hasn’t _heard_ him, because if he’d been in Raleigh’s place he’d be on full alert for asshole not-quite boyfriends sneaking up on him.

 

Chuck can’t be more than a few feet away from Raleigh’s turned body when he notices that the back of one of his many hideous sweaters is riding up his back, revealing a tantalizing strip of golden, bare skin and- _wait one fucking minute._

 

There’s a set of thick black lines, sharp and wicked looking, furling over the edge of his pants. It looks _big,_ Chuck thinks, before he also realizes that according to how it’s sitting on Raleigh’s back that it also probably sits rather _low_ on his back, perpendicular to the length of his spine.

 

Directly above his ass.

 

“A tramp stamp, really?” He exclaims loudly, unable to stop his stupid mouth from both giving him away and leading him to getting his ass kicked as well. Raleigh’s body stiffens suddenly as if he’s turned to ice, before he turns so fast Chuck doesn’t even have time to finish what he says next.

 

“So when was I going to find this out, when-” Raleigh grabs him bodily by his shirt, panic in his eyes probably at the thought of anyone hearing him, and all but drags him into the closest adjacent room, which, thankfully (and coincidentally) happens to be his own, covering his mouth is a harsh, heavy kiss that steals the breath right out of him.

 

“What the fuck, Becket?” He says, nearly breathless when Raleigh finally lets him go for air. Chuck can hear Max barking out in the hall before the sound trails off as an echo, but despite himself he can’t bring himself to care much past what he sees right in front of him. Mako will get Max, he thinks faintly, probably.

 

“You never know when to keep your damn mouth shut.” Raleigh replies, shutting the door behind them, sounding equally as breathless. His lips looks so kissable that Chuck wants to pull him back for another go, before Raleigh’s hands are pushing him down onto his bed, which he momentarily lets himself to be lead to, before realizing Raleigh’s probably trying to short circuit his brain before higher thinking kicks in. He grabs Raleigh’s wrists in his own, pulling the other man down with him.

 

“You have to show it to me.” He says, completely serious, looking straight into the blond’s eyes.

 

“Chuck…”

 

“Look, if we’re going to be doing… any of this, which I _really want to do,_ believe me, I need to see it.” Raleigh’s face twists into an apprehensive expression, before he sighs in a resigned manner, letting his hands go limp in Chuck’s grip.

 

“Just… don’t laugh too much, okay?”

 

“I can’t guarantee that.” The dirty look Raleigh shoots him then shuts him up momentarily, and his expression softens, because the other man is looking so earnestly at the frayed edges of his sweater, his proverbial shield from the rest of the world, that Chuck lets his hands go, before slowly pulling close by the threads of his sweater.

 

“Oi, let me, okay? I promise I won’t laugh till afterwards.” Not the best promise he’s ever made, but whatever, it still counts. Raleigh nods, letting his head fall to the side as he stands between Chuck’s spread legs while he lets him gently begin to pull the sweater up and over his head.

 

This is starting to seem a little (a lot) more intimate than Chuck initially thought it would be, because one hand is pulling up Raleigh’s sweater at a glacial pace while the other is running over the hard, firm flesh of his stomach, before resting on a mouth watering hip that Chuck is very fond of. Raleigh’s big dumb belt (that isn’t even on correctly, why even) blocks Chuck’s view of the delicious dip in his hips that lead down to his crotch, but Chuck will get to that later. First he just has to get this damn oatmeal colored sweater (and who would ever describe something as _oatmeal_ , that sounds vile) off. He can’t help but lean forward to lay a soft, dry kiss right above Raleigh’s belly button, which gets a small chuckle out of the other man.

 

He gets it about halfway before getting the sweater right above Raleigh’s pecs, to the dip in his neck-

 

And then he stops. Chuck blinks, then blinks again, not entirely sure what he’s seeing. His eyes flit back and forth from Raleigh’s chest to his face, and when he looks up at Raleigh’s face he can see that the other man has gone from only lightly blushing to _fucking atomic,_ biting his lips anxiously as he meets Chuck’s questioning gaze.

 

“Are those…”

 

“I was drunk.” Raleigh says quickly, cheeks still fire engine red, as if that were to explain everything. Chuck’s eyebrows are nearly at his hairline with how high they shoot up when Raleigh says this.

 

“For which one, the nipple piercings or the fucking stars you’ve got tattooed on your tits?” He blurts out stupidly. Because it’s not just one or the other, it’s _both._ Barbells pierced through both of Raleigh’s nipples, and framed by faintly outlined star tattoos that can’t be more than an inch or two wide. Chuck doesn’t even have it in himself to _laugh,_ he’s so stunned.

 

“Apparently drunk-me wanted hearts, but Yancy convinced me to get stars instead. Said it was manlier.” He supplies, sounding suddenly shy, one hand on his chest holding up his sweater while Chuck is still stuck staring gobsmacked at him.

 

“I think Yancy was fucking lying to you.” Chuck says, sounding far away as his fingers trace the faint outline of the one on the left. It’s not that big or anything, maybe 1.5 inches in diameter, but Chuck is goddamn mesmerized because who the hell would get stars tattooed onto their nipples? Raleigh shudders under his touch, letting a deep breath escape him as Chuck continues on with his little exploration; Chuck has already been wanting to run his hands over every part of Raleigh’s body hidden from plain sight, but now he’s even more incensed at the thought that there’s _more_ for him to see.

 

Chuck can’t help himself, he really _can’t._ He pokes the barbell, unintentionally flicking the nipple it’s pierced through as he does so. Raleigh apparently can’t help himself either, because a small moan escapes his lips before he throws a hand over his mouth, slapping away Chuck’s wandering fingers.

 

“Stop that.” Raleigh sounds so _snippy_ that Chuck can’t help but be amused, but what Chuck _really_ wants to hear again is the moan that Raleigh just gave.

 

“Does it feel strange when it get cold?” He questions, not listening to whatever Raleigh’s actually saying, his hands wandering back to Raleigh’s bare chest, this time going after the right nub.

 

“Yeah, a little-Chuck, stop that!” His hand is pushed away again, but he can’t help the sly grin on his lips then. Raleigh is blushing like a fucking tomato, his lips forming a flat, thin line that Chuck wants to do nothing more than kiss until they’re swollen and plump again.

 

“How can I not touch them, they’re right there.” He says petulantly, as if defending his own actions as Raleigh continues to look scandalized.

 

“You’ve also got fucking stars on them. Seriously, _how can I not?_ ” The star tattoos on Raleigh’s nipples are, at first glance, _fucking hilarious_ , but Chuck is surprised at how much he _likes_ them. They’re faint, several years old obviously, and maybe not noticeable at a glance from far away but _definitely_ apparent now that Chuck has him shirtless underneath him. They frame the barbells nicely, and Chuck has to resist the urge to reach out and tweak them lest he gets punched in the face rather than just have his hands slapped away this time.

 

“Look, that was… I was very drunk.” As if that wasn’t fucking obvious. Chuck could understand the barbells, but the _nipple tattoos?_ At least they weren’t colored, he thought, peering at the dotted black shading.

 

“ _How_ drunk?”

 

“Let’s just say you can thank Tequila for most of these. And Yancy.” He adds, as an afterthought. The red tint to his cheeks still hasn’t completely gone away yet, Chuck thinks, finding himself more and more irrevocably charmed by everything Raleigh does.

 

Ugh. He’s turning into a huge sap. The frightening part is that he’s slowly becoming okay with it.

 

“Christ, mate, what kind of nonsense did you two end up unleashing on the world when you were both blackout drunk?”

 

“Yancy, unfortunately, had a much higher alcohol tolerance than I did.” So basically Raleigh made all the questionable choices while Yancy egged him on, made sense. Raleigh shrugs off his sweater the rest of the way, now completely shirtless.

 

“I’ve got, ah… another one up here.” Raleigh pulls away from Chuck’s touch for a moment, reaching over to his duffel bag to grab a small bottle and rag out of it, squirting some of whatever was in the bottle onto the rag and beginning to rub it across the back of his neck.

 

Right where his hand would usually go to whenever he got embarrassed, Chuck thinks faintly when Raleigh makes his way back to him, the rag now lightly stained with a tan tinge. Makeup, he thinks suddenly. Raleigh sits down on the bed next to him, turning so Chuck can see the back of his neck, and when he actually sees what it is his lips quirk into a grin.

 

“It’s the only one I usually put cover up on, because it’s the most obvious I guess.” Raleigh supplies, the skin around where he’d wiped off the makeup scrubbed pink.

 

“That’s adorable,” Chuck says unthinkingly, and Raleigh just ducks his head in embarrassment again.

 

“Yancy would never stop giving me shit for it. We were from _Alaska,_ for god sakes, and I got a _snowflake?_ He thought that was endlessly hilarious, let me tell you. _”_ Chuck had a hard time believing that Yancy would do that for a tiny snowflake and not fucking star tits, but to each their own, he supposed.

 

“It is rather fancy looking, I will say.” And it was, all geometric hard lines, dotted along the outside for shading in negative space. It actually looked rather cool, in Chuck’s opinion, not instantly representational of what it was, but Chuck could see why Becket the Elder would have had such an opinion on it.

 

“That’s not all of them, though,” Chuck muses, his eyes flitting down to Raleigh’s ass, where he can _totally see_ the top half of the huge lower back piece there, and the other man blushes again.

 

“Come on, let me see. I promise it’ll be good for you.” He teases, a promise hidden in between his words, and Raleigh just jerkily nods at that.

 

That Raleigh lets him push him down onto the bed is comforting, because that means Chuck gets to appreciate those ridiculous piercings and star tattoos again. He gives one a quick tweak that has Raleigh yelping before he flips him over, laying him flat on his stomach while Chuck’s fingers trace the edges of the intricate piece taking over a large portion of Raleigh’s lower back. Chuck takes another moment to appreciate the curve of his ass as he pulls the belt that’s haphazardly tied around the other man’s waist off before tossing it over onto the floor.

 

“I don’t even understand why you wear a belt if you’re not even going to wear it properly…” His words trail off as he slowly peels down the back of Raleigh’s pants, along with his underwear, revealing inch by inch more and more ink. Eventually, he pulls them all the way down, the top of Raleigh’s pants now resting snugly under the curve of his ass. Chuck can’t help but give one cheek a firm squeeze, getting an unimpressed sound from Raleigh in return when the other man turns his head to throw an inscrutable look his way.

 

And then he really, actually, gets to the look at the lower back piece. And whistles.

 

“Jesus christ, Ray, this is huge. You didn’t do this in one session.” It’s not a question, and Raleigh grimaces again, his arms supporting him as Chuck all but sits on his legs.

 

Chuck was right when he’d gauged it’s initial size; it was _huge,_ going completely around the edge of Raleigh’s hips, dipping down along the other side of him. Chuck cock a brow at that, wondering if it went _all the way around._ It was all intricate lines curving around one another, curling lovingly around the dimples above the cleft of his ass, forming what looked to be… And Chuck had to stifle a laugh there, because it was pretty obviously a _Gipsy Danger_ tramp stamp, intricate looping lines or not.

 

“Drunk-Me decided to go back and get it filled in so it looked _complete.”_ Drunk-Raleigh, Chuck privately thought, was someone who seemed prone to making very poor decisions. Or was at least very susceptible to suggestions; that was something Chuck was going file away for later and hopefully not ever have to use.

 

“Drunk-you is apparently very serious about making questionable decisions. Does this go _all_ the way around?” He doesn’t even bother trying to be subtle here, and Raleigh apparently notices because his face flushes bright ass red again; Chuck’s wondering if he should start keeping a counter for how many times that’s happened today.

 

“Ye-eah.” Chuck sits up on his knees while he turns over; Raleigh’s underwear, at least, is still partially covering his crotch, but it does little to hide the obvious tent in his boxers that has Chuck grinning from ear to ear. It’s still pulled down on either side of his hips, seemingly caught only on his dick, but it does reveal the other side of the back piece.

 

“Christ, you got the front done, too? How low does this go?” Chuck makes to tug the last bit of undergarments keeping him from reaching his grand prize, so to say, the thick lines turning into delicate loops that point downward, before Raleigh grasps his hand, stopping him from going further.

 

“Let me.” The older pilot says, voice breathless as he takes one of Chuck’s hands and gently leads it downward, pulling the tip of his boxers down and showing him more and more tantalizing inked skin, before resting on a soft nest of blond curls that have him desperately wanting to just rip off the rest of Raleigh’s clothes and be done with it. But for once in his life, Chuck Hansen decides to be patient and see where that leads him.

 

“You want to go all the way, mate?” Chuck voices, his tone low and deep, eyes hooded with desire plain on his face as he leans in.

 

“I think I do.” Comes the fervent reply as Raleigh lets him dip a hand underneath underneath the waistband of his boxers, finally, _finally_ pulling them all the way down to his thighs.

 

“Holy _shit.”_ Chuck’s eyes zero in on the shiny ring pierced through the underside of the shaft of Raleigh’s cock, half hard in his hand but quickly rising to attention as he lazily jacks it a few times, fingering the metal ring once before leaving it. The sounds Raleigh’s making are _delightful,_ and he can’t keep the giddiness out of his voice when he speaks.

 

“Do I even want to ask how drunk?” Raleigh shakes his head, which is a complete fucking surprise, all things considering.

 

“I was sober for this one, but…T-that’s not all.” And he pulls Chuck’s hand down even _further,_ past the base of his dick and balls, until-

 

“Jesus christ, it never ends with you, does it?” Chuck can’t keep the breathless tone out of his voice when he says this, fingers lighting running over the captive bead ring pierced through the soft underside of the blond’s perineum, taking note of how Raleigh shivers under his touch. He doesn’t want to admit that his mouth is starting to water the thought of his mouth on Raleigh’s cock. Or Raleigh’s mouth on _his_ cock, his own length bobbing up and down as he fingers himself, thumbing at the base of it and playing with the metal jewelry pierced through it...

 

“This is the last. I was-” Raleigh’s fully hard now, and Chuck isn’t ashamed to admit that he’s feeling rather tight in his own trousers.

 

“Completely black out drunk?” Chuck supplies, grin tugging at his lips because _jesus christ_ who would have thought? Raleigh Becket, practically made of all American apple pie, both heavily inked and a sexual deviant? It was like all of Chuck’s dreams rolled up into one perfect package and then presented right in front of him, ready to unwrap.

 

“Pretty much. After that, I swore off alcohol forever. And punched my brother in the face.” Raleigh laughs then, as if the thought is a fond memory.

 

“Not to speak ill of the dead, mate, but your brother sounds like he was kind of an arsehole.” Chuck leans back, reaching off to the side to grab the bottle of lube hidden in his nightstand.

 

“Maybe a little bit.” Chuck smiles at that, before it turns into a frown when he realizes he’s got no condoms left. Fuck. Raleigh seems to notice this, and leans forward to lay a soft kiss to the side of his mouth.

 

“I’m clean. We both are. Remember how intense that physical was after Pitfall?” Raleigh reminds him, not unkindly, and Chuck realizes with a jolt that he’s right. The idea of fucking Raleigh without a condomis rather enticing to him despite all the safe sex seminars from the academy suddenly running through his head.

 

“You okay with that?”

 

“I’m more than okay with that, but what I’d really like is for you to get out of your damn clothes and get your cock in _me.”_ Raleigh’s already started fumbling with the buttons on his pants, evidently unhappy with being the only one nearly naked; he looks like the damn cat that got the canary when Chuck’s cock springs free of it’s prison, taking a moment to appreciate it with a little bit of light petting that has Chuck just roll his eyes at him.

 

He lets Chuck gently push him onto his stomach, looking up and back at him through half lidded eyes as Chuck squirts a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, taking no time to press a finger into the tight ring of muscle that Raleigh’s presenting for him so nicely. Raleigh, who gasps and whimpers so prettily, breathing hard when Chuck adds another finger pressed deeper into him, slicking him up in preparation.

 

“You okay?” Chuck asks, pausing for a moment to let the other man regain his bearings.

 

“F-fine, I’m fine.” His tongue runs across his upper lip, “Come on, I’m waiting.”

 

“Impatient bugger, you are.” Chuck muses as he adds a third finger, pushing deep enough to just graze that sweet spot that has Raleigh bucking back onto his fingers, his face pressed into the bed sheets as another loud moan escapes him. Four fingers in and Raleigh’s arching his back, trying to get _more_ , and there’s a bit more teasing before Chuck thinks he’s ready.

 

“God, just fill me up, Chuck.” Seeing his cock resting on the cleft of Raleigh’s ass is doing wonders for them both, he thinks, even though whatever Raleigh's saying is just plain _ridiculous,_  letting the friction send little jolts of pleasure through him as he slathers lube along his length.

 

“You just never stop talking, do you?” Chuck murmurs, taking special care when he first presses the head of his aching cock into Raleigh, letting his own breathing even out as he pushes in, releasing a deep breath as he bottoms out.

 

“I love the way you look stretched around me,” Chuck thinks that it’s probably a weird thing to say, and that Raleigh would probably agree if he wasn’t so busy gasping and whimpering into the bed sheets, but he doesn’t have it in him to care once he sinks all the way into the other man. He starts slowly, hands on Raleigh's delectable hips in a nearly bruising grip, building up a rhythm as he slowly pulls out and then slams back in.

 

If there’s one thing Chuck can admire right now, leaning over to place a kiss on Raleigh’s sweat soaked back, right on that damn snowflake, it’s how Raleigh’s ass looks stretched around his cock. What he likes even _more_ are the sounds that Raleigh’s making, breathy moans and stuttered words that fall out with every consecutive thrust that he makes.

 

“F-fuck, just do that again!” The end of it comes out in a rush, and it gives Chuck an idea that he’d rather like to give life, before nipping at the area back behind Raleigh’s ear, getting another breathless moan as a sweet sounding reward.

 

“Come on, on your side, mate.” There’s a moment of them scrambling, Chuck quick and Raleigh bonelessly letting Chuck rearrange them on the bed without somehow coming completely apart, but eventually he’s got them just how he wants them. The logistics of it are a little difficult to get back into the rhythm of at first, but they eventually settle into a slow, maddening pace that has Raleigh whining in pleasure and Chuck breathing harshly into the crook of his neck, face buried in the other man’s hair.

 

He’s got Raleigh on his side, fucking into him slowly, mouthing at the snowflake on his neck while the hand that Raleigh’s slightly leaning on is lightly pinching at a nipple, flicking the barbell incessantly. His other hand finds it’s way to the older pilot’s cock, thumbing gently at the jewelry there before rubbing a circle around the head in a soothing motion, Raleigh’s hips bucking back into him in return.

 

There’s a tenderness in how Chuck treats him, because as much as he’s wanted this for _so fucking long,_ there’s a frantic beat in Raleigh’s movements, and when the other man turns his head to face him Chuck obliges heartily by meeting his lips in a smouldering kiss that’s sloppy and amazing and fucking gorgeous, especially when coupled with the sounds that are coming out from Raleigh’s lips.

 

“Please, don’t stop-”

 

In between taking breaths Chuck can feel the muffled cries of wanton bliss escaping the other man’s mouth as they kiss, and when they finally separate there’s a look in Raleigh’s eyes that just makes Chuck quicken his thrusts and hold him tight. His hips piston sharply into the other pilot, and every cry, every little whine and desperate sound is just more motivation for him to _move._

 

“Chuck, _please-”_ Raleigh’s voice is coming in short, high pitched gasps that Chuck wants to swallow down, and he punctuates his next words with a particularly harsh thrust. His fingers trail away from Raleigh’s cock, tracing the lines of the black ink along the edge of his hips.

 

“Please what, _Ra_ leigh?” He huffs, not completely put together but definitely more so than the man writhing in front of him. Raleigh is tight and perfect and Chuck never wants to leave this, not ever, not if a fucking Kaiju attacked at this goddamn second (and considering the breach was closed, they’d probably have bigger problems brewing regardless). He’s so _responsive_ to everything Chuck does, he loves it, loves every little gasp and whimper out of him when Chuck flicks a nipple or thumbs the jewelry on his cock just a tad more roughly than before.

 

“I reckon you want to come, huh?” The frantic nod he gets is emphasized by an ardent _“Fuck, yes, please!”_ , and so Chuck continues nibbling at the area where Raleigh’s neck meets his shoulders, now pumping the other man’s cock in earnest. It doesn’t take long, from the combined efforts of his hand on Raleigh’s cock and him being balls deep in the other man before Raleigh clenches around him tightly enough to make his head spin, spilling his seed all over Chuck’s hand. Raleigh seems to come apart fully then, turning his head back to capture his mouth in another kiss as Chuck fucks him through the last of his orgasm.

 

This is what does him in, Chuck thinks, Raleigh clenching around him and moaning into his mouth as he comes, thrusting desperately into the other man’s pliant body. He can feel his cock pulsing, spending the last of himself as the rhythm is lost.

 

Chuck breathes deeply, his cock softening, still inside Raleigh, and huffs a laugh when he realizes how much the room stinks of sex. Raleigh shudders bonelessly, still connected to him, and Chuck lays a lazy, warm kiss to the back of his neck, and smiles.

 

The smile that Raleigh sends back at him when he turns his head, breathing hard but satiated and happy, is nearly blinding in it’s radiance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So, which one did you like best?” Tendo leers at him from across the table, having peppered more and more lewd comments at them all throughout breakfast. Raleigh hadn’t bothered to cover up the snowflake on his neck, something Chuck considered a small victory, though Tendo picked up on it near immediately. Along with all the hickeys littering Raleigh’s neck.

 

“The ones way down _below_ that weren’t tattoos.” Chuck shoots back smoothly, deciding that the sharp kick under the table Raleigh sends him was worth the look on Tendo’s face. Tendo, whose face goes through a moment of realization and then resting on muted shock, before he turns to Raleigh, sadness plain in his tone.

 

 

“You got a Prince Albert and you didn’t tell me? I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the back, man.” Tendo has a look of mock betrayal on his face, holding a hand over his heart, the fucking drama queen.

 

“It’s a Guiche and a Frenum piercing, not a Prince Albert.” Evidently, Raleigh doesn’t care about sharing the details with Tendo aside from correcting him. It comes out much louder than he’d expected, however, and everyone around them stops, turning their heads to peer at them.

 

Dead silence. Raleigh’s face is strawberry red, and Chuck just hides his face in his hands, trying to hold back the laughter threatening to spill out. Herc just looks pained.

 

“Look, I’m glad you two have… reconciled your differences, but lets keep the bedroom talk away from the breakfast table. And lunch. And dinner. And anywhere out of the bedroom.” He pauses, before turning to Raleigh again, incredulity plain in his voice as he speaks again, though he’s lowered it enough so only they can hear.

 

“And a guiche? Really, mate? That must have hurt like a bitch.” Chuck, for one, is surprised his dad even _knows_ what that is.

 

“Not really, but it felt really good last night.” Raleigh mutters into his oatmeal, though the further absolute silence in the mess hall reassures them all that it wasn’t quiet _enough_. Herc just sort stares at the two of them, as if unsure of what to do with them, while Mako’s face shares the same fire engine red that’s taking over Raleigh’s own expression at the moment. Tendo just claps, the asshole.

 

Chuck bumps shoulders with Raleigh then, leaning close to murmur some comforting words in his ear, before flipping everyone in the mess off in response. Raleigh smiles at him then, even though the blush on his cheeks, and Chuck can’t help but lean over and a lay a quick kiss there.

 

Worth it, he thinks, looking at Raleigh’s still blushing face, amidst all the people breaking into catcalls and whistles around them.

**Author's Note:**

> Come tumble with me [here](http://happyasaghost.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
